T'was the Night Before
by unnamedconspirator
Summary: Jackson stopped believing in Miracles when he was just four years old. But this Christmas Eve, with Harriet in his arms, something, or maybe Someone will change all that.


**A/N:** So this is my reponse to the Christmas Prompts! I may post another Christmas fic later. For now, enjoy this Japril One-shot!

"Goodnight, Richard, night mom," Jackson said as he stepped out of the doorway and into the crisp night air. He shifted Harriet in his arms as he carried her to the car.

"Goodnight dear," Catherine called, "and do wish April a Merry Christmas to for me, I'm so sorry she had to leave."

"I will." He carefully strapped his beautiful three month old daughter into the car seat in the back. She made happy noises as she chewed on her fist. "Here," he said reaching for the small plush Santa toy for her to chew on instead.

"Ma-oo-ub" she garbled, covering Santa's hat with drool. He smiled and stroked her chin. Harriet Kepner-Avery was just so cute.

He got into the driver's seat and rubbed his face tiredly before backing out of the driveway to go home. It was Christmas Eve, and Richard had invited them over for dinner, and everything... had gone smoothly. Except April got called in on a trauma. He looked over at the gift they had given him. Them. A book. A children's book. _Twas the Night Before Christmas._ Inside, Richard had penned a simple message, _To Harriet and her parents, miracles do happen, just look who's reading this book. Merry Christmas to all. From Richard and Catherine._

As he glanced in the rearview mirror at his tiny, squirmy, happy daughter, he had to say he agreed. Harriet was a miracle.

When he got home, the lights were on, and April was curled on up on the sofa. "Hey," he said. He didn't expect her to be home so soon. "Everything okay?"

She shook her head numbly. "People are stupid. They shouldn't drink and drive."

Oh. It was one of _those_ days. He swallowed, "I'm sorry," he said with empathy.

"Yeah..." she sighed.

"I know-" Jackson said, unbuckling his daughter- correction- their daughter, from the car seat, "just the thing-" he hoisted her in his arms, eliciting a little squeal- "to cheer mommy up!" He grinned as he sat down beside his ex-wife, their chubby-cheeked daughter in his arms.

"Oh- Harrie-berrie," April cooed, picking up her daughter in her arms. "I missed you so much! Yes I did! Oooh yes mommy did! Who's my little Squirmy?" April asked, as Harriet cooed and pushed up on her legs, staring at her mother's exaggerated facial expressions with mild curiosity.

"Mom says Merry Christmas," Jackson said.

"Oh... that's sweet of her." April replied.

"Richard loved the pie you made... oh, and he got this for Harriet..." he stood and picked the book up from off the counter. April shifted Harriet in her arms to look at the book. The small hardcover children's book showed a large rosy cheeked Santa with a sack of presents over his shoulder as he gazed merrily out at the world.

"Oh, that's adorable!" April gushed, making ooh's and aah's as she flipped through the pages.

"You like that?" He asked.

"Of course!" April said.

"I thought you'd be more like... you know, about Jesus or something."

But April made a dismissive gesture, "Oh... Santa is for the kids... I mean, yes, I celebrate Christmas as it represents Jesus' birth but... it's all about hope and faith... and like, magic, and I think that Santa helps kids believe in that. Believe in miracles." She hugged Harriet as she said that.

Jackson poured some eggnog and spiked it with a little spiced rum. "Did you believe in Santa when you were a kid?" he asked.

"Oh, for a little while,... I wrote letters and stuff. But then Kimmie pullled off Santa's beard at the mall... and well, that was the end of that," she said. "What about you?" she asked, bouncing Harriet on her knee.

"Me?" Jackson scoffed, "I dunno, I think when I was four..." he trailed off as an old, unpleasant memory surfaced. "Yeah, when I was four, my dad left and... I just kinda decided that there was no such thing as 'miracles' you know? I mean, he left, and all I wanted was for him to come back, but he never did... so-" his sipped his drink, "I guess I got a little jaded."

"I'm sorry," April whispered.

"Nothing to be sorry about..." Jackson replied quickly.

But April shook her head. "You were robbed. Little kids shouldn't be robbed of hope and magic... and miracles."

"Yeah, well." Jackson shrugged. "I'm gonna take a shower."

"Okay, I think Harriet's a little hungry anyway," April said. "Don't worry, I'll put her to bed."

"Goodnight Harriet." Jackson said, kissing his drool covered daughter on the top of her sweet head."Merry Christmas. Goodnight April."

"Night..." She said.

Jackson stopped in the hall, gripping the door frame of his room with his hand. "April?" he called.

"Yeah?"

A small smile curved on his lips. "I think... I think Harriet is a miracle."

"She is."

As if to confirm that, Harriet said, "Mmbubub," and sank her gums into her fingers.

When Jackson was finished in the shower, he overheard April reading, "Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there... The children were nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads. And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap, had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap."

He smiled and shook his head. He still loved her.

In his king size bed, he folded his arms under his head, his eyelids slowly drooped, but in his half asleep stupor, he recalled the day his father left. Christmas eve, ironically. He heard voices, and shouting. His mother's angry tirade and then her sudden sobs when the door slammed. He'd run out of his room, still dressed in his pj's and stared down the stairs to the foyer, where Catherine Avery had collapsed on her knees in tears, her fist pounding the door. He remembered closing his eyes real hard and wishing... wishing for his father to come back. He made a secret wish to Santa that moment. A hope that he cherished deep in his heart, and with childlike optimism, he'd informed his mother over breakfast that Santa would bring him back. His mother had smiled back and said, "I hope so, sweetheart."

That night he'd wished again, bargaining even, saying that he'd give back all his toys if only his father would come back. Even saying that Santa didn't have to bring him his most anticipated gift, a model WWII Hellcat fighter plane. But his dreams were shattered on Christmas day when his father never showed, and the fighterplane never appeared. After that he knew never to believe in anything but what he could see. 'Magic' had lost its appeal.

Jackson sighed, and finally drifted asleep.

Harriet's cries woke him, and Jackson groaned and rolled out of bed. He stumbled to the nursery, smiling when he saw April asleep in the rocking chair, faintly snoring. Without really thinking, he kissed her on the top of her head before throwing a blanket over his shoulder and scooping up his daughter.

"What's a matter, huh?" He asked little Harriet, bouncing her up and down, "You hungry?" He walked to the kitchen, knowing April kept a couple bottles of formula in the fridge. But Harriet settled down easily in his arms, and he didn't feel the need to fix what wasn't broken, so he walked her to the window to look out at the lit Seattle skyline. "You like the view? He asked. Jackson loved the view, it was one of the reasons he bought this apartment. And on a clear day you could see for miles. "How about the tree?" He asked. "Your mommy decorated it. And Auntie Arizona."

"Maahnana," Harriet murmured.

"You like bells?" Jackson asked, jingling a bell for her to hear, "Neat huh?"

"Bluhee!" she squealed, swinging her arms and thudding her forehead against his chest. Jackson sighed and sat down on the couch. Beside him was the book, it seemed April hadn't been able to finish it.

"Wanna hear the rest of the story?" Jackson asked. He picked up the book, "Let's see..." he said, flipping to the next page, "When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash. Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

"The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow, gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below. When, what to my wondering eyes should appear. But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer. A little old driver, so lively and quick, I knew in a moment it must be St Nick. More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!"

"Mmbababaa!" Harriet exclaimed.

"I know," said Jackson. "Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen! On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, Donner and Blitzen! To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall! Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

He pointed to the pictures, "Look at the reindeer, Harriett."

Harriett put a slobber covered finger on one of the reindeer. "Bah."

Jackson continued to read, "As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky. So up to the house-top the coursers they flew, with the sleigh full of Toys, and St Nicholas too..." He sighed. He was about to continue when he heard something... A clatter? He looked up from the book to the balcony window. There was movement, and the twinkling of lights... Wait-

Was that a person on his balcony? He picked Harriett up and stood to investigate. Was some fool trying to break in? He'd-

But the room filled with a warm glow and he covered his eyes as it itensifed, and then faded to nothing.

Jackson blinked.

Harriet was quiet and still in his arms, and he pressed his cheek against hers and held the back of her head, murmering soft comforts. What the hell was that?

"Aha!" His daughter exclaimed.

Jackson turned to the kitchen. "April," he said, seeing the fridge door open. "You scared me. What are you-" he stopped mid sentence. That wasn't April he was seeing...

That definitely wasn't April.

April didn't wear fur, or have a white beard, or rosy cheeks. "Santa?" he stuttered.

"Jackson... Do you have any egg nog?" he asked.

Egg nog? What? Who... What? "Uh..."

"Oh, there it is!" Santa found the carton, and poured some into a glass. Jackson stood there, dumbfounded.

"Bee buh duh?" Harriet added, pushing against his chest to see.

"Oh hello Little Harriet!" Santa said, smiling broadly.

"Wait... hold on a minute here..." Jackson said, trying to understand what was going on. How much rum did he put in his egg nog? "Who are you exactly?"

The man tipped back his glass and gulped down his sweet drink, and he laughed, his belly jiggling through his thick fur coat, and the light in his eyes twinkled and danced with merriment. "Oh hoho! My dear Jackson! My how you've grown!"

"Yeah... You still haven't answered my question..."

"Mmm," the older man stroked his beard, "the older they get, the harder it is... Hey Harriett?"

"Baba..." Harriett said, reaching a finger out to try and touch him.

"Hmm, exactly." The man replied. He looked at Jackson, his light eyes troubled. "I am deeply sorry about the last time... The wind was rather harsh that night, and it blew your gift right off the sleigh. The elves tried and tried to get it, but they couldn't find it, and we were on a tight schedule. As for your other request... Unfortunately, I couldn't convice your father to come back. Grown-ups just have a harder time believing."

"You talked to my father?" Jackson choked out.

"I tried..." He said, stroking his beard, "But... He didn't believe, so he couldn't see."

"I don't understand..."

"It's quite simple really," the stranger said. "If you believe in miracles and magic... then I am visible. If not," He shrugged, "I'm invisible."

"Then how... Wait... You're not- Are you-?"

"Jolly old Saint Nick? Santa Claus? Father Christmas? Pere Noel? Hoho Jackson! I should hope I need not tell you that!" He stepped closer to Harriet and tickled her chin. "It's Always a pleasure seeing the wonder in a child's eyes. Their hearts are so big, and their minds so open, to every possiblity!"

"So you're real... Santa Claus is Real?"

"Hmm, I'm as real as she!" he said, grasping Harriet's tiny hand. "But I must be off...many more deliveries! Happy Christmas!" He reached down and picked up a sack, swinging it over his shoulder. He winked and touched his nose. Light filled the apartment, and then he was gone.

Jackson stood in the kitchen, flabbergasted. And then Harriet began whimpering. "Shhhh, hey now..." Jackson murmured. He checked her diaper, it was dry. He offered her a bottle, but she refused. He jingled a bell for her, but she still cried. "Shhh..." he said again, as he sat back down on the couch.

"Baba!" Harriet squirmed in the direction of the book.

"You want me to read this again?" He picked it up and began to read.

"And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof  
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.  
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,  
Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.

"He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,  
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.  
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,  
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.

"His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!  
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!  
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,  
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

"The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,  
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.  
He had a broad face and a little round belly,  
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!

"He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,  
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!  
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,  
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

"He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,  
And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.  
And laying his finger aside of his nose,  
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!

"He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,  
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.  
But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he drove out of sight,  
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"

Harriet had fallen asleep, and Jackson blinked tiredly. He... Really... should get to bed...

The next morning, the three of them had breakfast and then they exchanged a few gifts. He'd gotten April a new phone, as hers had been damaged last week as she was treating a patient, and she'd found a watch that he'd been lusting after. Of course Harriet had been spoiled, covered in presents, she found the wrapping paper much more interesting.

He still couldn't shake last night's visit however, and tried to pass it off as eggnog rum induced weirdness. A bad alcohol trip, and made a mental note to check the expiry date of that nog.

As they were cleaning up, something under the tree caught April's eye.

"Jackson... There's another present..." she said. "It's for you."

He frowned as she handed it to him. A simple brown paper wrapped box, tied with twine. On the front it read: To Jackson, From Santa.

He stared at it in wonder, and before he knew what he was thinking, he ripped the paper off. He swallowed. "April... How did you know? Who told you? Did my mother..." he trailed off staring at the gift. A WWII Hellcat model fighter plane.

April shook her head, "Jackson, nobody told me anything. I literally have no idea where that gift came from. It's not from me."

He blinked. Beside him was that book again. "It's okay..." He said, "I think I know who it's from." Maybe it wasn't a dream. Maybe there were miracles. He flipped the front cover open and read Richard's message again.

As he held the box, he leaned back and watched April and Harriet. There were two miracles right in front of him. He just had to embrace it.

xxx

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!


End file.
